History Is Indelible
by ChloeHollingsworth
Summary: When Neal is attacked in his apartment, what will the consequences be? FATHER/SON
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N The words that are italicized in this text are Peter's thoughts!**_

It was around midnight and the FBI headquarters were basically empty. Peter sat at his desk, catching up on paperwork. Elizabeth was out of town for a friend's wedding, so Peter had opted for a late night at the office rather than going home to an empty house. He was finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open, though, and was about to call it a night when Diana walked into his office.

"Peter, Neal cut his anklet." Peter was instantly awake. He reached for his jacket and rushed out of the office without even a word to Diana in response.

The drive to June's seemed to last forever to Peter. _Neal when I find you, you're so dead_. NYPD had beaten Peter there, though that wasn't a surprise. He spotted the captain and rushed over to him.

"Peter, it's been a while," Captain Fuller said.

"Hey, Adam," Peter greeted, distractedly. "He couldn't have gotten too far. I want teams -"

"You haven't been in there yet?" Captain Fuller questioned, gesturing to the house.

"No, I just got here," Peter replied, worry creeping into his voice. Just then Jones came out of June's home.

"Um, Peter, you need to see this." Peter followed Jones into the house, hearing more sirens and someone asking how long until the ambulance would arrive. _Ambulance? _Peter was pulled from his thoughts when he walked in to see an unconscious June laying on the floor of her foyer. Blood was leaking from a head wound and an officer was leaning over her. _What the hell, Neal?_

"Is she…" Peter trailed off, not sure how to finish his question.

"She's alive, yes," replied the officer who was kneeling next to her. Peter nodded. _Neal! _Thinking of the con man again, Peter ran up the stairs. The door to Neal's apartment was already open, a handful of officers checking out the bloody scene. There were books strewn across the floor., shattered glass everywhere. Blood covered everything. Neal was laying on his back, his eyes closed, in a pool of his own blood. Peter watched Neal anxiously. _Come on, Neal! _When he saw the slightest rise and fall of his chest, he let out the breath he'd been holding. He rushed to Neal's side and crouched down. He picked up Neal's hand that had been lying motionless on the con's chest and held it in his.

"Neal? Neal, can you hear me?" Peter questioned, his voice full of concern. There was no response. "Neal, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Peter waited for a few seconds and felt the slightest bit of pressure on his hand. _Thank God! _He squeezed his own hand in response. "You're going to be alright, Neal. Just stay with me, okay?" Jones was standing on the other side of Neal.

"The ambulance should be here any second, boss," Diana informed Peter. Peter glanced up at her, but immediately looked down again when he heard what could only be described as a whimper come from Neal. Peter tightened his grip on Neal's hand.

"You're okay, Neal. You're okay," Peter reassured the con. Neal's eyes slowly fluttered open. He looked around the room with his unfocused eyes.

"P-Peter?" Neal asked.

"I'm right here, Neal. The ambulance is coming. Just stay with me, okay?"

"Peter." A moan escaped the back of Neal's throat as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

"Neal, you're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"Promise?" Neal looked up at Peter, his eyes finally focusing on him. Peter was silent for a second.

"I promise."

With that Neal's eyes shut and his breathing ceased.

_**Let me know your thoughts(:**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Just wanted to remind everyone that Peter's thoughts are italicized and unbolded in this.**_

_**Also, all of this medical stuff I just made up, so it isn't going to be realistic. If you feel like letting me know something's wrong in your review, I'll happily change it(:**_

"Neal. NEAL!" Peter yelled frantically. He immediately began administering chest compressions. Pinching the con's nose, Peter breathed oxygen into Neal's lungs. Nothing was happening. _Come on Neal, come on. _He pushed against Neal's chest again and again. Tilting Neal's head back, he pinched his nose and covered the con's mouth with his own for the fourth time. This time, he saw Neal's chest rise.

At that moment, the paramedics rushed in. Diana and Jones, who had both been crouched down next to Neal with concern written plain on their faces, quickly moved out of the way. Peter, however, did not leave Neal's side.

"Sir, we need to help your friend," said a paramedic. Peter reluctantly moved away from Neal, allowing the crew access.

"There's a pulse!" one of the many paramedics shouted, and Peter let out the breath he was holding. There was a buzz of activity as Neal was strapped to a strectcher and taken downstairs. Peter followed the medics out the door. They loaded Neal into the ambulance quickly and one of the paramedics turned to Peter.

"Are you riding with him, sir?" It took a moment for Peter to comprehend the question. Before he could answer, the medic spoke again, "sir?" Peter gave the man a quick 'yes' before climbing into the ambulance.

Neal was already hooked up to a heart monitor and had an oxygen mask on. Peter was surprised by how quickly they worked. Neal's eyes slowly fluttered open. Peter watched as Neal tried to say something, but couldn't because of his oxygen mask. Neal lifted his arm to his face, almost ripping one of his IVs out in the process. He pulled the mask away from his face with a shaking hand.

"Pet'r." Neal's voice was a whisper and Peter had to lean closer to hear him.

"Yeah, Neal, I'm right here." Peter put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, but quickly removed it when Neal let out a pained groan.

"Pet'r. June -"

"June's fine, Neal," Peter reassured him. Peter could only hope he wasn't lying to Neal. The last time he'd seen June, she'd been laying on the floor unconscious in a pool of blood.

"Pet -" Neal broke off into a coughing fit. The paramedic quickly moved to put the oxygen mask back in its respective place. Neal's eyes were wide and he looked like he was on the edge of a full-fledged panic attack. The medic gave Peter a look that seemed to say he better do something. Peter reached for the young con's hand and held it in his own. Neal squeezed Peter's hand with all the strength he could muster and he shut his eyes. Peter glanced back up at the smiling paramedic before returning his gaze to Neal. A smile slowly made it's way across Peter's face as he stared down at the man he had come to think of as a sort of wayward son.

When the ambulance reached the hospital, Neal was rushed inside and automatically disappeared between heavy double doors. Neal had gone into cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital and the paramedics hadn't been successful in restarting his heart.

Peter had tried to ask someone - _anyone _- what was going on, but he hadn't received an answer. Alone in the waiting room, it dawned on Peter that Elizabeth would be wondering where he was now. Though it was far from unusual for Peter to come home at late hours, he always made sure he called his wife to let her know. Fishing his cell out of his pocket, Peter quickly dialed the number. Elizabeth picked up on the third ring. Peter quickly relayed the day's events to her and she said she was on her way before hanging up.

Peter was pacing back and forth, concern etched into his features, when El walked in. She hugged him tightly for a minute before pulling away to look at him.

"How is he?" she asked, her voice full of worry.

"I don't know. Nobody in this damn hospital will give me any information," Peter's voice was raised at this point. "They won't even tell me if he's alive! And -"

Elizabeth cut him off mid rant. "Honey, I'm sure the doctor will be coming out to tell us more soon. Let's just sit down, okay?" Grabbing Peter by the arm, she gently ushered him over to a row of uncomfortable looking chairs. Peter sat down reluctantly, still fuming, and El took the seat next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "He's going to be fine," she said soothingly to her husband in an attempt to placate him.

Peter shook his head slightly. "You didn't see him back there, El." Before Elizabeth could respond, a doctor pushed open the double doors. Peter stood up as the doctor approached them.

"Family of Neal Caffrey?" the doctor questioned.

"He's my partner," Peter replied while flashing his badge.

Elizabeth stood up now as well, "How is he, doctor?" Her voice was full of concern.

The doctor sighed. "Not good. We were able to restart his heart, but he's slipped into a coma. He's stable, but critical."

Peter cursed under his breath. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, it's not looking good."

Peter was getting frustrated and began to yell. "Define 'not good' doctor!"

The doctor sighed again in exasperation. "If he makes it until morning, I'd consider it a miracle."

Peter walked stiffly away from the doctor. He paused for a moment and stared at the wall before putting his fist through it.

_**Okay, that's the second chapter, hope you guys liked it!**_

_**Again, all this medical stuff I completely made up. If it is too unrealistic, feel free to correct me on it, I'd appreciate it!**_

_**Are they too OOC? I tried to watch it. **_

_**Anyways, let me know your thoughts(:**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I currently have internet for the day and possibly tomorrow as well! Let's see how many updates I can bust out. **

**Here is the first of the 25 updates I promised. **

This was the worst part for him, for any doctor really. Telling grieving family members and friends that their loved ones were not likely to pull through. It was even more difficult delivering the news when the victim was rather young, as in this case. Of course he had plenty of experience with this, but it never seemed to get any easier.

The doctor watched as the fuming agent began to pace before turning and putting his fist through the hospital wall. He had been anticipating this sort of reaction given the situation and the upset agent's clearly strong emotions regarding his 'partner'. The doctor turned to the young nurse that was sitting behind the counter, her eyes wide at the agent's outburst, and asked her to retrieve a pack of ice. That punch was definitely going to have consequences.

"Agent…" the doctor trailed off, waiting for Peter to provide his name. Peter turned his head slowly toward the doctor, seeming to have forgotten he had been standing there.

"Burke," Peter informed him curtly and the doctor nodded in response.

"Agent Burke, if you would like to visit your partner, I can lead you to his room." Peter paused briefly, wondering if he really wanted to see Neal like this. Elizabeth, seeming to read his mind, put a reassuring hand on his upper arm and squeezed lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, thank you," Peter said as he began to follow the doctor through the heavy double doors and down the seemingly endless corridor.

WHITECOLLAR WHITECOLLAR WHITECOLLAR

When they arrived at the door to Neal's hospital room, the doctor stopped walking and turned toward the agent and his wife.

"You can go in now. I have to warn you that he looks bad, and he is, but he isn't feeling any pain right now."

Not quite sure how he should respond to that, Peter simply nodded his understanding, watching as the doctor turned on his heel and continued on down the hall. Turning to face the door, Peter exhaled heavily and shut his eyes briefly before reaching his hand down to the door knob and slowly pushing the wooden door open.

Peter's eyes automatically scanned the con man, taking in his appearance. Neal looked like crap, that much was obvious. There were tubes connected to Neal everywhere and the entire room seemed like a set from a horror movie. Peter was frozen in his spot, just barely inside of the hospital room, one hand still firmly gripping the cold, brass door knob. He could not force himself to move forward and get closer to Neal, but he could also not allow himself to leave. Even though all Peter wanted to do was run at this moment, he would not let himself leave Neal now.

Elizabeth sensed her husband's hesitation and decided to take the situation in to her own hands. She walked purposefully over to the hospital bed and gently grasped Neal's limp hand in her own.

"Hey, Neal. It's El. I know you aren't doing so well right now, but we really need you to wake up, honey. You have us all scared right now, especially my husband. You know, he might not admit it, but he's worried about you right now. Hang on, sweetie," El whispered in to the younger man's ears. She gently pushed the loose strands of dark brown hair from Neal's pale forehead before leaning down to kiss his temple. Sparing one last glance at her husband who was still standing half way in the room and half way out, she walked past him and headed back into the lobby, knowing Peter needed to be alone with Neal right then.

Peter watched El leave before turning his attention back to the young man laying motionless on the hospital bed. He carefully made his way to Neal's side and pulled up a chair. He sat there silent for a few minutes, just watching the slow rise and fall of Neal's chest.

"Hey, Neal," Peter began quietly. "You know I'm not any good at this sort of thing, but here goes nothing."


	4. Chapter 4

NOTE: So, in the first chapter I said Elizabeth was out of town, but then I had her show up at the hospital. I will fix the error later, but for this chapter, Elizabeth is still out of town

Peter had been sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair at Neal's bedside for only a little over an hour and already his back was sore. He had spent the better part of the past hour holding Neal's hand and rambling pointlessly about anything and everything, from their most recent case to a baseball game he'd watched last week. Peter wanted nothing more than to leave. To leave the horrible excuse for a chair, leave the stuffy hospital room, leave the hospital in general. Hell, he wanted to be as far away from this hospital as he could be. He was even beginning to think he should have just agreed to go that wedding with Elizabeth and skipped work for a couple of days. Who cares that he wasn't exactly close with the soon-to-be newly weds, that he didn't even particularly like them? He could have gone - and he should have - because if he had then he wouldn't be stuck in a hospital, in a room that smelled heavily of disinfectant and lemon pledge, sitting on a chair that is probably less comfortable than the linoleum floor. He wouldn't be here and that is what he wanted. No, he wouldn't be here, but Neal would. And no matter how much Peter wanted to, he never could leave Neal.

A nurse entered the room, sparing Peter a small smile. He walked quickly to the opposite side of Neal's hospital bed and began checking machines and tampering with the many tubes connected to Neal.

"Can he hear me?"

The nurse's head snapped up immediately at Peter's question, the surprise he felt at being addressed by the agent evident. Peter himself was surprised, he hadn't intended to actually ask the question he had been thinking since he first entered the room.

"He might be able to. There's no way to know for sure," the nurse responded sympathetically as he continued to check on Neal.

"Yeah. Yeah, I figured."

Noticing the hint of disappointment in Peter's voice, the nurse cast a glance back at the agent. Upon seeing the crestfallen expression, he decided to go against his better judgment and add, "Your friend will be alright."

Peter tore his gaze from Neal to stare at the other man. "That isn't what the doctor said."

Knowing he should not continue, but feeling sympathetic, the nurse said, "The injuries won't kill him."

"If his injuries aren't serious, then why is he in the ICU?"

"His injuries are serious, but not fatal. As long as your friend doesn't give up, he will be able to pull through."

Peter nodded, going back to staring intently at Neal.

"It could help," the nurse blurted out.

"Excuse me?"

"The talking. It could help."

"How?"

"If he can hear you, it's important he knows he isn't alone. It might just give him the strength he needs to get through this."

Peter said nothing and didn't bother to look away from Neal.

Finishing his ministrations, the nurse made his way to the door, but stopped short when he heard Peter speak.

"Thank you."

"Of course, sir."

Peter turned in his seat, the plastic creaking. "Could you tell me about his injuries? The doctor didn't say much."

"I'm terribly sorry, but we can only release details to family members, sir."

"He's my son."

"I thought he was your partner."

"It's more than that. He might not be biologically related to me, but he is the closest thing I have ever had to a son."

The nurse hesitated, but complied. "He's got three broken ribs, two others are cracked, and the rest are bruised. He has a deep wound on his left side that required 18 stitches. There was glass in the wound. His right ankle is broken. His right wrist is fractured The most troubling injury is the large laceration on the back of his skull. He seems to have lost a significant amount of blood and the head trauma is severe. But if he makes it through the night, his chances are pretty good."

Peter nodded solemnly, letting the new information sink in. "Thank you."

The nurse looked at the patient lying motionless on the bed and moved back towards Neal. He glanced from Neal to the clipboard he had been holding and back before excusing himself and hastily leving the room.

The nurse left Peter to return his attention to Neal, but only for so long. The doctor entered, addressing Peter. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Peter stood, clearly anxious. "Is he okay?"

The doctor hesitated. Not long, but Peter caught it. "Like I've already told you, he is stable but critical."

"I keep hearing that but I still have no idea what the hell it means!" Peter growled out, trying not to shout.

"Sir, I understand your frustration, but we cannot allow visitors right now."

"Can I ask why? If his situation hasn't changed, why am I being kicked out?"

"He is being placed under a mandatory suicide watch, sir."


End file.
